


Heartbeat

by belletylers



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 17:52:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1657178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belletylers/pseuds/belletylers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr Gold gets a call from the hospital at 3 in the morning. </p><p>AU where Belle has a terminal illness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> Get your tissues. Seriously.

The hospital buzzes with such activity, and the lights overhead are so bright, one might not know that it’s 3 in the morning without checking their watch. Mr Gold isn’t resentful of the phone call that brought him here so late – he hadn’t been sleeping, anyway. He barely does anymore, unless it’s by her bedside. His leg complains as he ascends the endless sets of stairs, the elevator still out of order. His cane creaks with overuse, probably from climbing these very stairs too many times.

Dr Whale greets him at the front desk of the ward, nervously fingering a clipboard. He shifts from one foot the other, the colloquialism of “shoot the messenger” rolling around in his head as it usually does on Mr Gold’s late night calls to the hospital.

“Good evening,” Gold says impatiently. “Or, should I say, morning.”

“Those test results came back,” Whale replies, not waiting for him to enquire about it, as he had almost every night this week.

“That’s the reason you called me in at three a.m.?” he asks, his eyebrow flicking upwards.

“No. Sh-She…Belle was asking for you,” the doctor stammers.

Gold’s jaw visibly clenches. “Then I do believe you’re in my way.” The older man attempts to push past, but Whale blocks him off. “Get on with it, then.”

Whale feels a ball form at the base of his throat. “Her internal organs are failing. We thought that a change in medication would be able to sustain her but her body seems to be rejecting the treatment. Anything we do from here on out is less about curing her and more about making whatever time she has left as painless as possible.”

Gold’s eyes close and his heart sinks. It’s been a long time coming, this news. But not long enough. He mutters something inaudible and then looks expectantly at Dr Whale.

“Excuse me?” Whale asks, not having heard what he said.

Suddenly, his mouth twists into an expression of fury, and he smashes his cane violently against the reception desk, causing the nearby staff to jump in surprise. “How. _Long?_ ” he demands.

Whale takes a shaky breath, trying to maintain his professionalism. “It’s hard to say. Days, maybe.”

His chest heaves as he breathes in and out. “I can fix this,” he resolves.

“Mr Gold, I advise you to not use magic on her,” Whale says, trying to sound authoritative. Gold ignores him, shoving him out of the way and hurrying down the hallway that holds all his dread. Whale follows, trying to persuade him. “Please, Mr Gold. Magic doesn’t belong here. No one knows the consequences of combining it with modern medical treatment. Belle’s system is _full_ of a very specific mix of chemicals, tailored to her needs. If you try to cure her, the balance could be thrown off. You could end up killing her before the disease does.”

Gold stops walking and turns around, struck by his words. “But I could save her life.”

“I have a feeling that Belle’s life isn’t something you’re willing to gamble,” Whale guesses, bravely. “Even if she were to survive, her life quality will be severely diminished. She’ll have an extensive recovery, and her immune system will be weakened. As will her…reproductive system. It’s unlikely – close to impossible that she will be able to have children.”

“But she’ll be _alive._ ”

Whale does not respond, but he does not break contact from the warning look he gives the pawnshop owner.

“I’m the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms,” Gold says.

“I know, but – ”

“What’s the point of power if you can’t save the ones you love?”

He rounds a corner, and Whale goes to follow, but he’s held back by one of the nurses, who touches his shoulder and shakes her head.

It takes every ounce of his strength to contain his despair, and to put on a smile for her when he finally reaches her room. There is a dog-eared book in her hands, but she is fighting sleep as she reads, her head lolling and eyelids drooping every so often. The gentle rapping of his knuckles on her door wakes her, though, and she slams the book shut when she sees him.

Every time, it strikes him differently, the way she has changed since she came here. Her chestnut curls are no longer thick and full, and though they still frame her face, she hides what is left under a scarf. Her body is frail, her collarbones and ribs and shoulder bones sticking out where they did not before. The rosy swirl that almost permanently inhabited her cheeks is long gone, and purple half-moons hug her eyes. She’s a tangle of sheets and wires and machines, tubes disappearing into her arms and her belly. Her lips are pale and cracked. But she still smiles when he appears in her doorway. And she is just as beautiful as ever. His beautiful Belle.

“Hey,” she says hoarsely, extending her arm. He takes her hand and clasps it, sitting down in the chair that sits beside her bed permanently for his visits, which are long and frequent. He tries his damnedest, but his sadness can’t be concealed. Her smile fades a little. “They told you, didn’t they?” she asks, like it is nothing. Like it is just another thing that happens, day-to-day. And, in some ways, it is. But it is not nothing. It is everything.

And he crumbles.

His body shakes with sobs, erupting over and over. Tears drop onto her hand as he brings it to his lips, kissing it as gently as he can, as if she might break. “Don’t go,” he whispers, trembling. “You can’t…you can’t go.”

Belle reaches out and touches his wet cheek. “Shouldn’t those be my tears?” she asks, but she doesn’t sound upset.

“I can’t live without you, Belle. I _can’t._ Not after everything.” He hates himself right now for being so selfish. It is her heart that fails her, not his. And yet he sits and wishes his would fail too so that this whole thing wouldn’t hurt so badly.

“But you have to,” she tells him in a soft voice, somehow maintaining her soft, enchanting smile. “You can touch other’s lives, Rumple. Like you’ve touched mine.”

After _everything,_ she still manages to be wise. It astounds him. It always has. She strokes his hair as he nuzzles her neck and tells him not to worry.

“This isn’t your happy ending,” he says after forever. “You deserve one more than any of them.”

“I got my happy ending a long time ago. This isn’t a curse, Rumple, it’s _life_. In the end, every one of us becomes a story. But I want to be remembered for my bravery, for my good heart and for my love for you. I _lived,_ Rumple. Some people don’t get the chance to do that.”

He kisses her until she is breathless, which is easier than it used to be. He closes his eyes, remembering every spark, every sensation, memorising the feeling of her lips and her hair through his fingers and the little tiny noises she makes, knowing very well his memory may have to serve him for the rest of his days.

She fights sleep until dawn breaks, when he tells her to rest. But he does not let go of her hand. Not until the beeping that mimics her heart rate – the one he has fallen asleep to so, so many times – is finally silenced by one, long continuous sound.

When the nurse rushes in and catches his eye, she looks at him with pity, and he thinks it has been an extraordinarily long time since somebody has done that. She tells him he is sorry, and he wonders why, but accepts the apology anyway.

The last he sees of her is through a crowd of staff as he leaves her room for the last time. In death, she is as beautiful as ever, but it is her warmth that he shall miss most. The world is already colder without her.


End file.
